Legend of Zelda: Shattered Memories
by SalamanderOfTheWildWest
Summary: Majora's Mask left us with quite a few unanswered questions. This story is meant to answer my questions, and hopefully yours. Contains predeath MM Link and Zelda. (One-shot)


_**Since I am too lazy to update Pain of the Burning Stars, I decided write something about Link. This will only be one chapter, but will be longer than anything else. It will be a collection of memories from Link in Majora's Mask. I get zero love anyways. I do not own Legend of Zelda. Also. Shrimp are still memories of better times.**_

* * *

Link took the ocarina from Zelda and left. All he felt was hate towards her. She had sent Link back in time. She had made everyone forget what he had sacrificed. A hero that will never be known, he had thought bitterly. As he rode away on Epona, Link ignored Zelda's anguished crying.

When Link arrived at the Kokiri Forest, he quickly left into the lost woods. For days he traveled in there, not sure where he was going. At least until he heard that cursed laughing.

* * *

Link had stood at the top of the clock tower, his little deku fingers clenched in rage. Skull Kid had stolen his ocarina. The only thing he had to remember her. He wanted it back so bad, he'd have done anything.

* * *

Link was breaking. He had relived the same three days over and over. He had let countless people die. The masks were corrupting him as well. He could feel the pull coming from them. The dark whispers invaded deep into mind. He couldn't take much more.

* * *

He never should have done it. He was sick. He was desperate for power. He knew that the mask was more dangerous than Majora. Yet he still put it on. The power was too much. Link had broken. His mind snapped. He cut Majora down, too easily. When he took the mask off, he knew he could never face the people of Termina again. So he left.

* * *

Seven years later, Link still hadn't returned to Hyrule. He had wandered the world, selling his blade to those who needed it. Link lost part of himself the day he used that mask. He bore the scars on his face, three black slashes permanently tattooed into his flesh. He never wanted to see any of his old life again, because it sickened him. But destiny calls.

* * *

Link found himself at the top of a grassy hill, the breeze softly dancing across his skin. Hyrule hadn't changed. He could see Death Mountain in the distance, imposing as always. There was Lake Hylia, it's beauty everlasting. And there was Hyrule Castle. The center of the land. It stood, white turrets gleaming in the twilight sky. He wasn't sure why he came back. He felt a calling though.

* * *

He walked through the crowded streets, ignoring the stares focused on him. He was ragged. His clothes were tattered and faded. His blade was cracked and exposed. His arms and face bore the scars of a monster, the flesh having been hardened by battle. He strode forth, the guards calling him to stop. They hadn't recognized him, so he was imprisoned.

* * *

Three days. He was held in the dungeons for three days before he was brought before the Queen of Hyrule. She sat on her throne of white marble, clothes untainted by grime. He was held at spear point, clothes tattered and mudstained. The Queen had held up the ocarina, and accused him of stealing it. He didn't speak, for his throat had clenched shut.

* * *

The Queen of Hyrule shut herself in her study that night, and cried. She had heard tales of a legendary swordsman, saving those in need. She had dared hope it was him, but her hope died. She softly played her lullaby on the ocarina, noting how clean it was compared to the other things he had. Suddenly she had gasped, realising too late. She ran through the halls, but the guards had let him go. They searched all of Hyrule, but he wasn't found.

* * *

Three years passed, and the Queen had to choose a suitor. She found her opinion of all men sullied. Link had been one of a kind. She had been sitting on her throne when she heard it. The clopping of many boots, and trumpets playing. Another suitor she had thought, but she was wrong.

The doors to her hall had been thrown open, and there he was. He wore a polished suit of golden armor, the helmet held at his side. There was a large broadsword strapped to his back. And a gleam in those mismatched eyes. One, darker than the blood of satan, and the other a soft azure of the ocean. He introduced himself as Link, champion of Calesita. A place where royalty are chosen by their heroic deeds. She had found him, and he had found himself.


End file.
